


In This Light

by indirectkissesiniceland



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Fights, Getting Back Together, Heartache, Heartbreak, Hollywood, M/M, Making Up, Melodrama, Unapologetically self-indulgent, feat. supportive friend butters, photographer craig/actor tweek, the one that got away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 02:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8872189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indirectkissesiniceland/pseuds/indirectkissesiniceland
Summary: Craig is photographing a red carpet assignment when he crosses paths with someone he thought was out of his life for good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr: "I think I may have found a song that accurately describes how I feel toward you."
> 
> The song used is Adele's "When We Were Young"

Being assigned to a major awards show had less to do with actual photography talent and everything to do with being young and beautiful. Craig knew that he was being sent over senior photographers because he might turn up in the background of somebody’s picture of the celebrities, and everyone would be asking,  _who is that?_ His publisher was probably counting on it. More publicity for the magazine.

Someone like Stan Marsh wouldn’t even realize it, taking his assignment humbly before bounding off like a puppy, pleased as punch that he’d “proven himself.” Someone like Kyle Broflovski would be indignant, arguing that he didn’t deserve the position and probably losing his golden opportunity over a silly thing like fairness.

Craig knew why he was going and kept his mouth shut. Getting ahead was what mattered here. He’d photograph a high-profile event, and if he managed an even average portfolio of beautiful people, his career would skyrocket.

Yeah. That was why he wanted to go.

_“I’m going to be a world-famous photographer.”_

_“Are you?” Said in a voice that teased, not questioned. “Yeah.” A little laugh, mostly exhaled through the nose. Anybody else would have missed it._

_“And you’ll be my muse.” Craig sat up from where he was lying on the edge of his bed and swung his leg up and around in one fluid motion, one knee making an indent in the mattress on either side of the blond’s torso. Craig hovered over him. That earned a smile, the kind that trembled to his lips then lit up his whole face; nobody else got to see it but Craig. “The famous actor, star of the stage and silver screen.” He held up the instant camera in his hands and snapped a shot, knowing before he’d even pressed the button that the secret smile would be gone, faded into a safe smile for the camera. Lips that simply curved upward, not lips on the cusp of wrapping around the words_ I love you _. “My first gallery will be a collection of candids. Maybe I’ll publish a book.” The camera stuttered out the square picture, and Craig grabbed it, waving it as it developed._

_“A tell-all?” Laughing, soft. “All the horror stories of what I’m like in real life?”_

_Craig tossed the camera aside and leaned down. One forearm against the mattress to hold up his weight, careful not to pin down or pull any loose strands of blond hair; the other hand still waving the developing picture. Kissing like breathing: easy, automatic, life-giving._

 

Craig's name was on every list, and he was going to take advantage of it. Luxury hotel with all the bells and whistles on the magazine's tab, limo ride to and from venues, designer wardrobe. Why a photographer would need a designer suit was anyone's guess (and Craig's cynical knowledge), and it didn't look or feel any nicer than the one clearance rack suit he owned for weddings and funerals back home, but Craig was going to live in the damn thing this weekend. Well, sort of. It needed to be nice when he was actually on the red carpet.

His hotel was a zoo. Information of where the celebrities were staying was being kept confidential, and the paparazzi were staking out every high-end hotel in hot pursuit. Somebody knew where gossip was being made, Craig was sure, and would spill, and then the cameras and television personalities would be off. He thought about Jimmy, his college roommate who had entered the journalism program with passion for news and a sense of responsibility to the public. Jimmy would hate this three-ring circus. Craig hadn't talked to him in a long time. He'd have to call. 

It was only a two-day stay in Los Angeles, so Craig had one small bag he didn't plan to unpack. He could live out of a suitcase for a few nights. His suit was waiting for him when he checked in, hanging up in a garment bag, and with no one around to judge him, he dropped his suitcase and tried it on right away. Sitting on the edge of a king-size bed for one person, drinking Coke from the stocked fridge in his room, Craig felt emptier than he'd anticipated. If he spoke aloud, his voice would bounce off the walls and echo right back to him.

Only crazy people talked to themselves.

_"She sells seashells by the seashore. She sells seashells by the seashore. Pittsburgh, penguins, poppycock, pumpernickel. Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba..."_

_"Talk dirty to me." Craig leaned over the railing of the stairs leading down into the backstage pit. From below, the blond looked up, still repeating nonsense syllables to warm himself up. Enunciate. Pace himself. Around the sheep noises he was making, his lips curved up into a smile. Then he whooped like a siren. "Does that really help?"_

_He was in full costume by now, cast and crew wandering around them. Craig knew he should get back to his seat. Full costumes backstage meant the lights would be flickering their warning soon. But he couldn't help himself. Everyone in the troupe knew he was the lead actor's boyfriend and was used to his silent presence at rehearsals. Nobody questioned his being backstage on opening night._

_Finished with his vocal exercises, the star of the show smiled and shrugged. "Helps me, yeah." Speaking clearly had been a struggle when he was a kid. Now he was much more in control. He'd calmed down so much from his anxious childhood state. Since he and Craig got together._

 

Craig wore the suit to the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel. It was pretty empty considering how many guests were currently checked in, and he slid onto a bar stool and ordered a drink. One other guy sat two seats away from him watching the television behind the bar. Craig half-expected it to be tuned into a football match or whatever, but it was a channel cycling videos of once-live music performances. Once he had his drink, Craig turned around and leaned his elbows on the bar, looking out across the restaurant area and towards the lobby. More celebrity reporters were checking in.

"Isn't she somethin' else?"

Glancing over on reflex, Craig saw that the speaker was the other man at the bar, and that he was addressing him. This guy must've been another reporter; he wore a nice enough dress shirt over expensive-looking jeans and had a white-blond mohawk styled just so that it was floppy without falling flat, in fact looking quite soft. That was the best: blond hair that looked spiky but felt amazing to run your hands through.

"Who's that?" he asked. This guy's little smile was too sweet to ignore like Craig normally would.

"Adele." Mohawk gestured to the television behind the bar, and Craig looked over his shoulder at it. Sure enough, there she was, performing in a black gown. 

"She's alright." Craig didn't listen to much music, but popular radio stations were always on in the office, so he knew Adele well enough.

"Alright?" Mohawk put a hand to his heart as if Craig's noncommittal agreement had wounded him. "Gosh, no, her voice is so beautiful! And her lyrics...well, they're the kind of sad that makes you feel hope for the future, don't'cha think? Like the sun comin' out after rain."

"You can't be sad and hopeful at the same time," Craig said, turning away from the bar again.

"Well, sure you can! The best sadness in the world is full of hope, 'cause it comes from a beautiful place." Mohawk finally dropped his hand from his chest and sipped from his drink, an umbrella-adorned glass Craig assumed contained a Shirley Temple. "Like this song, just listen. It's all about seein' a lost love after a long time, an' how even though they're older, just seein' him brings her back to their young love. Kinda sad, rememberin' like that, but isn't that beautiful?"

Craig sighed, and Mohawk beckoned over the bartender and asked him to turn up the volume. " _Let me photograph you in this light_ ," Adele crooned on the television, " _in case it is the last time_."

Much as he wanted to ignore it, chug the rest of his drink or maybe leave it behind and go back to his room, the lyric stilled him. Craig prided himself on being able to hide emotions behind a professional, even bored, expression. But he knew that skill was failing him just from the way Mohawk's eyebrows lowered, the way his light eyes crinkled with sympathy.

"See?" Mohawk said softly. "You've got a beautiful sadness, too, don't'cha?"

_"Let me take your picture." Craig hadn't had a drink all night, had actually obeyed the law and stayed away from the liquor he wasn't supposed to drink for another three years. But he sure as hell felt drunk._

_"Craig, cut it out." But he was laughing. Squirming in Craig's arms, but tilting his head this way and that so Craig could kiss all over his face._

_"I wanna remember this forever."_

_"Why wouldn't you?" Tentatively kissing back, one soft press of lips to the center of Craig's chin that ceased all frenetic movement, slowed all desperate affection. "You don't need a picture to remember. I'm not going anywhere."_

 

"I'm Leo," Mohawk said, sticking out his hand.

"Craig." He shook Leo's hand but didn't ask any questions, didn't invite any socializing. Now he really wanted to go back to his room.

So he did.

His supervisors back at the magazine probably would've pitched a fit, but Craig wasn't here to make friends, and he definitely wasn't here for reminders of the past. He threw back the last of his drink, gave Leo a quick nod, and all but vaulted himself off his bar stool to head for the elevator. Somewhere behind him he was aware of Leo calling out to him and saying something that sounded like "hamburgers," then the telltale scrape of a bar stool's legs on tile floor. As quickly as Craig had made it to the elevator, though, the damn thing took its sweet time and gave Leo enough of an opening to catch up to him.

"Hey," he wheezed, his hair drooping pitifully. "Wait up."

"No choice," Craig muttered. Apparently satisfied that Craig was being forced to socialize, the elevator dinged merrily and opened its doors. Leo padded in after him. When Craig jabbed the button for his floor, he expected Leo to press his button, too. Or maybe he didn't expect that, because he wasn't surprised when Leo didn't do it.

"I'm real sorry," Leo said in the kind of kicked-puppy voice Craig thought people grew out of by the fifth grade. "Here I am goin' on and on about beauty, an' you're still in the hurtin' part of your sadness."

"I'm not  _hurting_." Nor had he meant to say anything to perpetuate this stupid conversation. Leo's little hum of sympathy was an arrow striking the bullseye, though, a kind sound that knew too much. It had been a long time since Craig had felt the sting of vulnerability, and he wasn't going to let it hit him now in an elevator with this sap. Doing what he always did, he pushed it down with irritation. "Why the hell are you following me?"

"I wanted to apologize for upsettin' you. An' let you know, well, if you need a friend or somebody to listen, I'm here for ya." 

The elevator dragged its way up to Craig's floor, and Craig took the opportunity to narrow his eyes, give Leo the meanest look he could muster.

_"You're not as scary as you look, you know," he said._

_"What's that supposed to mean?" Craig asked._

_"Ack! Um, well...ngh...you've got kind of a serious face, you know? Like you mightnotbe approachable. But you're, mm, nice under that. If you try."_

 

"Aren't you here with the rest of us to get our scoops?" he asked. Leo frowned. "Take pictures, write gossip like it's fact. You're a rag writer, right?"

"I do some writing for a teen magazine. Our focus is on positive choices and opportunities. Not gossip." He sounded so earnest. He had to be new.

"If I had something to talk about, it wouldn't be with anyone here this weekend," Craig said, looking away. Leo looked sufficiently distraught, there was no need for him to keep glaring at the shrinking violet. "The whole hotel's probably bugged for dirt to _report_ on." Jimmy would've been proud, the way he injected venom into that word, dragged it through the mud the way these people did with their work.

"Well, gee, Craig. Why would these folks care about your problems? You're not a celebrity." The question came in such an innocent tone of voice that it threw Craig off. He looked up just in time to catch Leo's expression melting into horror. "Oh, hamburgers, that sounded awful. I'm  _real_ sorry, Craig! I didn't mean it like that, just—"

"No, you're right. Nobody would care about my story." Craig had to choose his words carefully now. Despite his goody-two-shoes-ness, there was something perceptive in Leo's nature. That was bad. Thankfully, they'd reached Craig's floor, and he sprang from the elevator as soon as the doors were open. "Bye."

"Oh, wait!" Leo scampered out after him. "Craig, really. I feel just terrible. All I've done since we met is made you sad an' mad." He followed Craig down the hall to his room like a shadow. A nervous, sputtering shadow that wouldn't last five minutes in the cutthroat world of celebrity reporting. Maybe that was what did it, made him seem so harmless. That honest-to-goodness  _niceness_. Craig wanted to hate him, doubt him, pin him for a liar playing the skittish role to lull others into a false sense of security. But he didn't.

_"You cold?" Craig had his hoodie around his boyfriend’s shoulders before he answered. Even wrapped in the blue fleece, he shivered. It was different from the light tremble Craig had come to tune out in their usual interactions. Flipping up the hood, Craig covered his messy blond hair, ghosting tan fingers down pale cheekbones._

_"I got an audition."_

_"Yeah?" Craig wrapped an arm around his shoulders, snuggling back into the squashy cushions of the old couch one of their dormmates had brought. "That's awesome."_

" _InLosAngeles_ ngh...!"

 

By the time he opened his door, Craig had decided this battle wasn't worth fighting, and he stepped back to let Leo in after him. After a vague gesture into the room that Craig figured translated well enough into  _make yourself comfortable,_ he dug around in his suitcase for jeans and a hoodie and went into the bathroom to change. When he came out, Leo was sitting with his legs crossed under him like a pretzel on the floor.

"You can sit on the bed or a chair, you know."

"How come you were wearin' that suit, anyway?" Leo asked, quirking his head like a dog. Craig sighed.

"Because why the hell not," he said, and Leo beamed as if this were a terrific answer.

Dragging his feet, Craig made his way over to the bed and dropped down onto the mattress. Leo tilted his chin up to look at him over the edge of the folded comforter at its foot, then apparently realized how stupid sitting on the floor was, because he scrambled up to sit beside Craig. A long silence stretched out between them; Leo swayed where he sat, a little smile on his face, and Craig frowned at how comfortable he looked in the uncomfortableness of this situation.

“You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?” Craig asked.

“Oh, gee, I have a bunch of friends back home! Kenny, an’ Clyde, an’…well, I guess Eric counts,” Leo said, as if Craig had any idea who Kenny, Clyde, or Eric were. “How about you, Craig?”

“I have friends.” Craig was relieved when his answer came out sounding more bored than defensive. It was a small circle—Token, Jimmy, Red and Bebe when they needed a designated driver—but better that than a whole group of assholes who couldn’t stay away from trouble if you paid them to, like Stan and Kyle. At Leo’s hopeful eyes, he added, “Good ones.”

“Good!” Leo said brightly. “I’m glad, Craig.” Another few seconds passed, and this time Leo must’ve been in on how awkward it was, because he spoke up more quickly. “Want to talk about it?”

Jerking back, Craig shot him a look. “Talk about _what_?” Like he didn’t already know. Leo didn’t answer, but he didn’t break eye contact either, and Craig knew that he recognized stalling when he saw it. “...What do you want to know?”

“That song really meant somethin’ to you. I could tell from the way your eyes got all…well soft and feathery, I guess. Like you were seein’ a music video in your head, and you were the star.”

“Do you always talk like this?”

“An’ I was wonderin’, well…you seem like the kind of fella who hides sadness. Like you’d rather suffer alone than let someone help you.” Leo ran a hand through his floppy hair, not breathing any life into it. “I bet you’ve never let someone see you get sad.”

_Him: Come with me._

_Craig: No._

_Him: Craig, please...just..._

_Craig: You're going to be great._

_Him: Why...whywon'tyou, mm...come with me?_

_Craig: I...can't._

_Him: Craig, you're shaking. Listen—_

_Craig: You better go. You'll miss your flight._

 

“We had a plan,” Craig said finally. Though his eyes were focused on the flat-screen T.V. across from the bed, he could still see Leo perk up in his peripheral vision.

“’We’?”

“He had this amazing opportunity.” Bringing his hand up to his face, Craig rubbed the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. Tired. So tired. “And he deserved it. He was going on to better things.” When Leo didn’t ask another question, Craig continued on his own. “I would’ve held him back.”

“Did he think that?” Leo’s voice had gone quiet, soothing, like those pastel candles that showed up in every store ever at Christmastime.

“No, but I knew it.” He still knew it. He'd still hold him back. To this day, what was Craig bringing to the table? An entry-level salary that was barely enough to float rent on a crappy studio apartment and the art school student loans that didn't seem like such a bad idea at the time.

Leo frowned. "You ended it?"

"I ended it." It wasn't until the words were out of his mouth that Craig realized this was the first time he'd admitted to it out loud. He'd ended it. He'd taken a sledgehammer to the one thing in his life that had always been exactly perfect. With half a breath of a pause, Craig repeated his transgression in a whisper. "I ended it."

"Well, maybe you can fix it." Even Leo's floppy mohawk seemed to perk up at the thought. "I bet'cha it's nothing you can't fix. You were tryin' to do right by him, even if it came out wrong. If you call him up or pay him a visit, I bet he'll forgive you, an' it'll all be right as rain."

"We broke up four years ago." Four years, three months, and six days since twenty-one-year-old Craig fucked everything up. "And haven't spoken since. He moved to California."

"We're in California right now!" Leo said, as if this were brand new information. "Look him up! Ah, unless...I don't suppose you hear through the grape vine or social media or anything...he isn't with someone else...?"

It was as if even suggesting such a thing pained Leo to say, which was a coincidence, because the thought was a sword through Craig's heart. "No, actually. He hasn't been with anyone else since, as far as I know." Not that Craig had obsessively read the gossip magazines, scouring their articles for any indication that he'd moved on. The rag writers were baffled to report not so much as a blind date.

"Did you ever try dating someone else?" Leo asked. As if there were anyone else on the planet. Craig's expression must've said as much, because Leo chuckled and shook his head. "It sounds like you two still love each other."

"No, it sounds like we broke up four years ago." Craig meant for there to be more bite in his words, but he couldn't conjure the anger. It was too powerful to hear someone outside of his own head suggest that maybe he wasn't the only half of the old relationship still carrying a torch.

"Call him," Leo said.

"No."

This was the point where Craig expected anyone else would have said something like _why not_ or _quit being so stubborn_ , but Leo held his gaze with such perfect understanding that Craig almost felt his sight go watery. Almost.

"You can't keep beatin' yourself up over this, Craig. Or holdin' onto this old love without any closure. You've gotta—" A quiet trilling interrupted Leo's thought, and he fumbled in his pockets in search of his phone. "Oh, hamburgers. Craig, listen, I have a four o'clock appointment I have to go to."

Craig blinked. "Oh. So...go?" A part of him was disappointed to lose a sympathetic ear; after one accidental outburst in front of Jimmy and Token, Craig had avoided talking about his relationship altogether. Then again, dragging it all back up to the surface again wasn't what Craig wanted, either. Not this weekend. He pushed down the disappointment.

Leo tilted his head to one side and seemed to contemplate Craig. "You don't want to know where I'm going?"

"Dentist appointment? Making sure your teeth are sufficiently white so as to blind everyone with your smile tomorrow?"

With a laugh too genuine for a response to Craig's barb, Leo shook his head. "No, silly, I have an interview with one of the celebrities up for an award tomorrow night! A fella I reached out to figurin' he'd never write back, an' then he replied within the week. Personal e-mail and everythin', not even written by an intern."

"That's nice." Craig wondered if it were true that an intern hadn't written the reply, but then, the fact that Leo's celebrity had agreed to schedule an exclusive interview the day before a major awards show was pretty hard evidence. "I won't keep you."

"Well, gee, Craig, why don't'cha come with me? I'm writin' for our magazine's blog online, so we don't need as many glossy photos as print does, but it'd be nice to have a professional photographer with me to snap a shot or two. Come on, it'll be fun!" Leo actually reached over and tugged on Craig's sleeve. "We'll be real quick, just an hour or so, an' then we can get back to helpin' you figure out your love troubles."

"Please don't say 'love troubles.'"

"You don't have any plans tonight, do you?" Leo pressed, and Craig couldn't think up a lie quickly enough. He didn't have plans. And despite the fact that Leo was losing precious travel time and thus risking running late for an exclusive, Craig got the sense that Leo had already decided not to leave the hotel without him.

"Fine," he said. "Let me get my camera."

 

_"Hey."_

_Craig looked up at the voice, a high-pitched sound like the scratch of one of his father's old records. Pale green eyes glared down at him, a mane of strawberry-blond hair exploding all around his company's irritated presence._

_"Yeah?"_

_"Yougotaproblem, ngh, with me, man?"_

_"...Who are you?"_

_Blondie's scowl deepened. "We're in the same class!"_

_"Doesn't answer my question, dude." Even if there were only about twenty kids in Mr. Garrison's third grade classroom. Craig felt like he should remember this guy. It's not like he was hard to miss._

_"Stan and Kyle said you want to fight me," he said, and Craig groaned with exasperation. Of course those assholes were behind this._

_"Trust me, kid, don't pay any attention to those two. They're just trying to start trouble."_

_Blondie peered at him closely._

_"Why would I want to fight you?" Craig asked with a shrug._

_"So...theyweretrying, geh, to trick me?" Blondie's voice pitched up with agony at the end of his question. Craig sighed. "Well, whatdoIdo, man?_ Ngh! _"_

_"I'll show you," Craig said patiently. Turning in his seat at his desk, he pivoted in the direction of Stan and Kyle, who quickly pretended that they hadn't been watching. "Wait for it," he said. Blondie trembled behind him, a few more muted grunts._

_"Those jerks," Blondie muttered. "Ugh! Why would they—"_

_"There we go," Craig said. Stan and Kyle finally looked back over again. "Follow my lead," he said to Blondie. Then Craig lifted one hand and flipped Stan and Kyle off. They both squawked and jeered at him, but then they paused. Standing by Craig's side, Blondie was flipping them off, too._

 

Five minutes later, they were in the lobby. The elevator cooperated for Leo and came as soon as he pressed the button that called it. The whole time they rode the elevator and walked through the lobby, Leo chattered nonsensically about a sandwich shop he knew in the area and how tasty it was. At first Craig thought he might be losing it, but then he realized that Leo was a lot smarter than he'd given him credit for; most of the hotel's guests that night were journalists, photographers, or videographers checking in to report on the red carpet the following night and would be on them like dirt on new shoes if they caught a whiff of a celebrity interview.

Leo had driven himself to the hotel and steered Craig in the direction of the parking lot, where Craig slid into the shotgun seat of a beat up old sedan. Behind the wheel, Leo regaled him with such thrilling stories as how his friend Kenny practically rebuilt the engine of this car and how Leo had to spend a whole afternoon cleaning it before leaving for this trip because the backseat smelled like Taco Bell. All the while, Craig took his camera out of his bag and inspected it, wondering what celebrity had agreed to meet with Leo. It had to be someone young for a teen magazine, and it couldn't be someone too famous just yet. That ruled out most of the nominees, at least the big ones.

They pulled up to another hotel, a slightly more upscale chain than the one they were staying in, and Leo swung around into the guest parking lot. Once they were inside, Leo shooed Craig off to call the elevator while he checked in with the attendant at the front desk. The elevator here didn't like Craig any better than the one in his own hotel, and he was still waiting when Leo walked up beside him.

"The front desk is going to call up so he'll know to expect us," he said quietly, shooting Craig a little smile. Craig shrugged one shoulder. Perhaps sensing that it was Leo wanting to get on, the elevator dinged open then, and they got in with another couple of people who looked conspicuously like undercover reporters.

Their company took the elevator up one floor, and as soon as they were out, Craig heaved a sigh through his nose. Leo tutted him, but the target audience of the annoyed sound didn't seem to notice. Once the doors were shut, Leo glanced over.

"You know, most folks in the journalism industry ask lots'a questions. You don't ask any. You didn't even ask which fella it is we're going to see."

Craig's eyes followed the electronic display above the doors as the floor numbers climbed. "I guess I'll find out soon enough." They reached the nineteenth floor, and the elevator slowed.

"Well. I suppose you will, that's true!" As the doors opened, Leo quickly added, "Our room is nineteen-oh-six."

"Nineteen-oh-six," Craig repeated. He followed Leo out of the elevator and down the hallway, watching the numbers decrease from the twenties as they made their way. This hotel was enormous. Privately, Craig was glad he could just follow Leo.

When they finally reached their destination, the numbers on the door an antique gold that was—ironically, Craig thought—supposed to look _modern_ , Leo knocked twice on the door. Craig took his camera out of its bag and slung it around his neck so that it rested more on his shirt than his skin, then lowered his hands to cup the weighty camera on which he'd spent money he didn't have back in college. Worth it.

_"Ooh, Mr. Professional." A little laugh. "You look really cool with that camera, Craig."_

_"You think?" Craig snapped a picture of him, and the flash went off brighter than either of them expected._

_"Do-o-on't. Craig, I look awful." He'd just gotten over the flu, the worst case in South Park. Craig had had it, too, and was probably where he caught it from. But Craig was just exhausted and slightly dehydrated, while he'd been bedridden and violently ill all through Christmas and was only just okay to have company again._

_"No, you don't. You look great."_

_"Liar."_

_"Truther." Craig snapped another picture with the camera tilted for an angle, a real artistic shot if he did say so himself. He pulled up the image on the viewfinder. Most of the frame was a jungle of strawberry-gold hair sticking out in every direction; a forehead wrinkled cutely with alarm at the flash, light eyes near the bottom of the picture, freckles and the hint of a nose just in sight. "You always look great. When will you feel okay enough to make out again?"_

_"Ugh, Craig, go home, you creep." He chucked one of his pillows in Craig's direction. "I'll puke again."_

_"Sexy."_

_"Shhhhut up."_

 

"C'mon in," a voice called from the other side, and Craig felt his stomach turn to ice. His head snapped up from where he'd been examining his own camera.

"Leo, I—" he managed, but Leo was already pushing open the door and striding in.

"Well, hey, there! Nice to meet'cha, I'm Leo Stotch." As his voice disappeared deeper into the room, Craig considered turning on his heel and leaving, The elevator couldn't have retreated to another floor already, or if it had, it was close by. Though he supposed it made little difference, with the elevator luck he'd been having lately.

"Nice to meet you, too, Leo. I'm—" He sounded so much better. His words weren't coming out faster than the brain could translate, and his anxious tics were totally gone, the little grunts and grumbles Craig had known his whole life.

"An' this is my friend...hey, come on in!" Leo called, Against his will, or maybe with it and just against his brain, Craig pushed the door further open and followed Leo inside.

There he was.

Wild mane of strawberry-gold hair rebelling against the bobby pins attempting to tame it into a presentable look. Down to his shoulders now, longer than the last time Craig had seen him in person. Dark eyebrows, their natural color, contrasting with fair locks, also natural. Light skin, light eyes, light constellation of freckles splashed across his nose. Wiry limbs that made you want to protect him, wide stance that told the careful observer he needed no such protection. The dull teeth that showed his love for coffee had been whitened for the screen, but his lips seemed thinner. Granted, in his mind, Craig supposed he always pictured him with lips full and blushing from one too many kisses, eyes soft looking up at him. Not the way he was now, eyebrows raised to his hairline, mouth agape.

"There he is!" Leo said. "Mr. Tweak, this is—"

"Craig Tucker," he said quietly.  The shock splashed across his face molded itself into polite pleasantness.

"Hey, Tweek," Craig said, immediately regretting the softness in his voice. The way his vocal chords remembered their favorite sound and the way his lips had missed curving around the name.

"Well, golly, you two know each other?" Leo asked. Craig nearly started; he'd forgotten Leo was in the room. Tweek's curious eyes turned from Craig to Leo, and Craig could tell he was surprised that Leo wasn't aware that they knew each other.

"Yeah," Craig answered before Tweek could. The green eyes were on him again. Craig fought his instinct to step back.

"Gosh, it's a small world, isn't it?" Leo said in his usual chipper tone, though Craig caught a distinct flicker in his eyes that suggested he wasn't about to accept that one-word answer. "I hope you don't mind my bringin' along a pal, Mr. Tweak. I thought a photographer might be able to bring somethin' special to the published interview."

"A photographer," Tweek repeated, voice gentle, rich. Like hot cocoa, marshmallows melting into its heat, icebergs in a chocolate sea. "Of course."

 

_"Howcanyou drink that? It's pure sugar." Tweek tilted his head looking down at Craig's mug of cocoa, mini marshmallows piled as high as he could get them to go without spilling over the sides of his mug._

_"How about you? That's pure caffeine," Craig countered._

_Tweek raised his eyebrows with an air of superiority. "I'll have you know that this is decaf."_

_"Decaf?" Craig echoed with mock horror as Tweek toasted him with his mug. "Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?"_

_"Ha ha, very funny." Tweek took a sip, then wrinkled his nose as he swallowed. "...Who am I kidding, this tastes like crap. Give me yours."_

_"Oh, nevermind, you_ are _the real Tweek."_

After Tweek insisted twice that Leo call him by his first name, he pulled up the desk chair for Leo and sat on the edge of the bed. Leo whipped out an old-school notebook and gel pen. Both blonds glanced up at Craig while he adjusted his camera standing up.

"You can go ahead and start," Craig said, trying to remember his professionalism and focus on that versus his pounding heart. Four years, three months, and six days since he'd seen Tweek in person. He was practically counting hours. "I'll snap some candids while you're talking."

"You wouldn't publish anything unflattering, would you?" Tweek asked, covering his smile with his hand, eyes conspicuously staying on Leo. "I don't always photograph so well."

"Yeah, you do." The words were out of Craig's mouth before he could stop them, and he looked down to busy himself with his camera in time to avoid the eye contact that came with both Tweek and Leo looking at him.

"I haven't seen a lousy picture of you yet, ah, Tweek." Leo turned shy at the first-name basis but rebounded quickly into professionalism. "Well, first off, our readers are typically in the eleven-to-seventeen age bracket. We like to interview folks who are fairly close in age to our readers, so let's start with something of an ice-breaker question. What were you like when you were a young teen?"

 

_"I can't kiss you anymore, Craig."_

_"What! Why?"_

_"You're shredding the helloutofmy, geh, lips." Tweek pointed for emphasis. Even though he was well aware of the damage done, Craig leaned closer anyway to inspect Tweek's mouth. As always, the aroma of coffee announced Craig's entrance into Tweek's personal bubble, but in place of the soft pink lips he'd grown increasingly fond of once puberty hit, Tweek's mouth was scraped up from clashes with foreign metal they hadn't figured out how to navigate._

_"I'm not used to my braces yet. Pretty soon you won't be getting caught on me anymore."_

_"You're right. Geh! BecauseIwon't be putting my mouth anywhere near you, Brace Face!"_

_"That's not fair! It's not my fault my teeth are messed up." Craig let his bottom jaw drop open and hooked one finger inside his mouth, pulling his cheek open wider to display the glinting metal that had plagued him for two months so far. First they denied him chewing gum and chips, and now they threatened to steal the only thing his mouth loved more._

_"It's not my fault either, so whyshouldI_ ugh _bepunished?" Tweek sniffed and turned his head away. "I'll kiss you when you get them off."_

_"The orthodontist said I'd have them for three years!" Both of Craig's hands flew up to cover his mouth._

_"Then I'll, geh, kissyouin three years."_

"I grew up in a small mountain town in Colorado," Tweek said, voice practiced. "The kind of place where strange things always seemed to be happening, but you got used to it because you lived there."

Positioning his camera in front of his eye, Craig zoomed in on Tweek's face. He looked a little tense. When Craig snapped a shot, the camera's _click_ seemed to startle Tweek. His eyes turned from Leo to face the lens dead-on, and Craig snapped a follow-up shot.

The jump did seem to knock the formality out of Tweek, if only a little. His lips quirked up at the camera, like he was about to roll his eyes at Craig. Probably only Leo's presence stopped him. He returned to the interview.

Craig glanced down to check out his work in the viewfinder. He deleted the first picture. The pensive beauty it reflected was print-worthy but didn't capture the natural Tweek at all. The second picture he kept, though he didn't think he'd send it to Leo; the particular arch of Tweek's eyebrows, the laser focus in his light eyes, wasn't for him.

Keeping his camera trained on Tweek, Craig stepped from side to side and adjusted his angle for good shots. Every light was flattering on the angles of Tweek's cheekbones, his freckles practically glowing over the bridge of his nose. Natural light filtering in through the window caught Tweek's hair, setting it ablaze. Craig's breath caught in his throat; he'd almost forgotten how striking Tweek was, how easy he was to photograph.

Who was he kidding? Craig hadn't forgotten a damn thing.

"Did you always want to be an actor?" Leo asked, the most boring question any journalist had ever asked an actor. Anyone else who had snagged an exclusive interview with the youngest of the Best Actor nominees would've been all over juicy gossip and in-depth questions on how he trained for his latest role, and here was Leo, snore-reporting for the Clean Teen Zine, or whatever the hell it was. Craig sighed.

At least Tweek could count on this interview not being too much pressure, though. Rapid-fire, hard-hitting questions and Tweek didn't mix; he'd get upset, and that was when his tics acted up. Or, at least, it had been when they'd last seen each other.

"I sort of realized I could act by accident. It was my...friends who pushed me to try out for the drama club."

It was Craig who pushed. Craig, who had been totally entranced when Tweek turned a tiny disagreement into a federal case, even whipping up fake tears, only to wipe them on the back of his hand and walk off with a smile once he'd gotten his way. In the fourth grade, Craig didn't really understand, but in retrospect, he knew that was the Moment. The sacred Moment everybody always goes on and on about, when you Know.

"What was your first part?" Leo asked. Tweek had to throw a hand up over his mouth to cover his laughter. Shielded by the camera, Craig bit his lip to keep from smiling.

"I was Spooky Tree Number Two in _Into the Woods_ ," he said. "Everybody got to have a part because it was a school play, so a lot of us who were younger were trees and woodland creatures. Oh, and we only performed in the first act. Only the older kids acted the whole play. It was years later that I learned what the second part of the story was."

Though the memory of Tweek rushing up to him in middle school, horrified that _Into the Woods_ didn't end happily ever after, hovered in Craig's mind, mostly his thoughts zeroed in on the first part of his answer. That tree costume, and the way he'd had to wave his branch arms in the wind.

 

_"Are you happy now?" Tweek asked, frowning at Craig from beneath the cardboard tree costume he had over his body. "I can barely move in this. This isn't acting."_

_"Everybody starts somewhere," Craig said, circling him for a more professional look. He thought the costume was kind of cute, especially with Tweek's cheeks puffed up with indignation like they were, but he couldn't say that without going through the motions of thinking carefully. Tweek wouldn't accept anything less. "You're going to be great."_

_He was, too. Craig had bullied most of their class into going to the play, and when Tweek shuffled on stage and waved his branch arms, Craig rallied the entire fourth grade to applause. After the show, everybody bailed, having fulfilled their promises to Craig. When Tweek reappeared from backstage, Craig reminded him to sign his program "for when you're famous."_

_"I can't believe you made everybody clap for me," Tweek mumbled. "I was just a tree."_

_"Like Tammy Warner's family didn't bully their row to clap for her," Craig said._

_"She was Little Red Riding Hood. She had a solo."_

_"Whatever," Craig said. Tweek's hair looked especially fluffy tonight, and was kind of glowy at the tips where the stage lights caught them. "You were the Woods in_ Into the Woods _. You were basically the star."_

_"That's not how it works, Craig." But he was smiling. He'd liked that, the idea of being the star. Craig could tell._

 

Tweek told Leo a bit about looking at colleges and advice he'd give to aspiring actors or people looking into acting programs. His answers were very practiced, some word-for-word repetitions of interviews Craig had heard him give before. Then again, he supposed Leo wasn't asking particularly original questions, either. It was almost a waste of an interview.

"And what was it like moving to Los Angeles?" Leo asked, just as Craig was taking another shot of Tweek's profile. Craig's index finger stuttered on the button. "Gosh, you were just a kid!"

"Twenty-one," Tweek agreed quietly.

"An' you moved here all by yourself?" Leo asked, his accent slipping in his eagerness to ask. Craig didn't dare lower his camera. Tweek's tongue barely peeked out from between his lips, wetting them.

"Yes," he said, even more quietly. "I moved here by myself."

 

_The plan was to live at home for a year, work some odd jobs, then come back to the city when they could afford an apartment. Back to Denver, probably, or maybe Boulder, since it had a young, artsy vibe. Tweek had mentioned Boulder more than once, and if that was what he wanted in a year, Craig would go._

_Los Angeles was a few more years down the road. First they were going to save up some money, then get a place of their own that wasn't a dorm, and then after a few years of modest work building up their lives, they'd be off to California. It was a quiet, sensible path._

_Tweek was jumping the plan by at least three years._

_"It's just an audition," he said. "I probably won't get the part. But I got a shot to try out and figured this would be my L.A. experience."_

_"But what if you get the part?" Craig asked. Tweek would get it. Of course he would get it. Craig hadn't even asked what the part was, but any director was going to take one look at Tweek and give him anything he wanted._

_"I won't," Tweek said, bewildered. "I'm just...giving it a shot."_

_"Tweek, we can't afford to move to California yet."_

_"We're not moving anywhere, Craig," he said, a smile in his voice. Tweek rocked up onto his tiptoes and tugged on Craig's shirt to pull him down so Tweek could kiss his nose. "It's just an audition. You don't need to think that far ahead."_

_"But what if you get the part?" Craig repeated. "If you got an audition, there's a chance. And we should be in L.A. so you can shoot and maybe be more part of the film scene."_

_"You're overthinking." Tweek was once the king of overthinking. Though, Craig had to admit, getting out of South Park had done wonders for Tweek's nerves. Getting out of his parents' house, and probably especially their coffee shop, and away from jackasses like Stan and Kyle. In fact, Craig was more than happy to take a little credit for Tweek's increasingly relaxed behavior these past few years. "Worst case scenario, my parents might give us a loan."_

_"Tweek, I really can't afford it. We don't have any money." Even his going to a state school in Denver had been a stretch for the Tuckers, and now Ruby was looking at schools. "I can't ask your parents to give me a loan...I wouldn't even have a job in L.A."_

_"You could get a job easily. Nobody photographs like you do."_

_"No, nobody photographs like_ you _." Tweek couldn't look bad in a picture if he tried. Even shots of him mid-conversation or in motion somehow came out artistic and captivating. "I'm just a guy with a camera."_

_"You've never been just a guy with a camera. Craig, we're getting way off topic here. Let's just plan for a weekend trip to Los Angeles, ngh, and then we'll come home."_

_"Unless you get the part."_

_"They're notgonnatellme right then and, ngh, there, you know! They'll call."_

 

"Leo, would you like some coffee?" Tweek shot up from his seat and went towards the minibar in the back of the room. He had his own coffee supply standing by, brands Craig could see from a distance weren't the complimentary hotel brands, even at an upscale hotel's.

"Uh, no, thank you, Tweek," Leo said, glancing at Craig. "Craig, do you want any?" He hesitated over the words, like he wasn't sure if he should be offering Craig Tweek's coffee.

"I don't drink coffee," Craig answered, his eyes on Tweek. Shit. He knew this scene too well, and the telltale tremor in Tweek's hand as he set up his coffee press.

Back when they were kids, Tweek drank coffee like an addict. Probably because that was exactly the case; his father had been spiking the house blend with locally-made meth. The cops caught on eventually, of course. For about six months in the seventh grade, Tweek had to live with relatives in Aspen. He might as well have been on Mars.

 

 _Craig sat bolt upright at the sound of the_ Red Racer _theme song plinking into the darkness. The sun wasn't up yet. His desk clock, its digits faintly illuminated, read 3:01 a.m._ Why is my alarm going off? _he thought. The picture of Tweek holding Stripe that lit up his phone's screen snapped him out of his sleepy haze._

_"Tweek?" he answered, keeping his voice low, hoping his ringtone hadn't woken up his parents._

_"Craig," Tweek sobbed back. Craig kicked off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed._

_"Tweek, what's wrong? Where are you?"_

_"Where...? I'm at home," Tweek said, not as if it weren't a legitimate question, but as if he himself were just realizing this. His words gritted against Craig's ear, as if Tweek were forcing them out through clenched teeth. "Craig, ack, something'swrongwith_ ngh _me."_

_"Nothing's wrong with you," Craig said, practically on autopilot. There was no time to get dressed. Holding the phone against his ear with his shoulder, he yanked his coat up over his pajamas, then dropped to the floor to root under his bed for his boots. "Did you have a nightmare?"_

_"Ican'tstopshaking," Tweek said, followed by a string of his usual grunts, and then a little whine of pain that sent fear plummeting into Craig's stomach. "Craig, I'm dying."_

_"You're not dying." But Craig was scared. "I'm coming over, unlock your window."_

_It was raining, naturally, but Tweek's house wasn't that far. Craig could run it blindfolded, and nobody in South Park was out at three, even at Uncle Skeeter's bar. He made record time, only lost his grip once or twice when he shimmied up the Tweaks' rain-soaked drain pipe, and slipped into Tweek's bedroom with nothing more than a dull_ thud _._

_Tweek had wrapped himself up in his blankets on the bed and had both hands over his mouth to stifle whimpering and whining. His body was jerking so badly Craig thought he was having a seizure._

_"Tweek," he hissed into the dark. "_ Tweek! _"_

_"Craig...!"_

_Craig kicked off his boots and shrugged off his wet jacket, then crawled up onto Tweek's bed. He reached into the blankets, fingers moving carefully until they found Tweek and pulled him up out of the mess of fabric and into an embrace. Tweek's fingernails were always cut super short, but they dug into Craig's forearms, bunching and twisting into the material of his stupid space alien pajamas._

_Tweek always shook, but this was different. Normally it was just a little shaking, some tremors, that got worse if he got worked up over something. These were full on jerks, whole-body movement that Tweek clearly couldn't control. His bottom lip was bleeding from where he'd bitten it, and as soon as Craig had his arms all the way around him, his hands finding the small of Tweek's back, Tweek buried his face in the crook of Craig's neck._

_Now Craig was really scared. Sure, Tweek could be kind of paranoid. He had funny ideas about cashiers at the movie theater or old people at crosswalks. But this seizing, terrified mess wasn't Tweek._

_"It's okay, I'm here, it's okay." Craig couldn't imagine his saying this was at all comforting for Tweek, because his voice sounded just as scared shitless as he really was. "When did it start?"_

_"Idon'tknow," Tweek managed._

_"What does it...are you in pain?" Tweek grunted and groaned a few times, his body wracking in a way that couldn't possibly be safe. Craig's heart pounded in his chest. "How...how much coffee have you had today?"_

_"None," Tweek said, the word coming out on a sharp exhale. "Doctorsaidnghgeh_ ugh _it wasn'tgoodforme, ngh."_

_"I know. You told me, I know." Tweek had been reducing his coffee intake by one cup a day for the past week. Craig hadn't realized how much coffee he'd been drinking; seeing Tweek with a travel mug in hand was so typical, he never gave much thought to it._

_"Craig, I'm dying," Tweek panted, his voice shaking. A second later, Craig felt something wet falling on his neck. At first he thought it was rain from his hair, but a shuddering sob later, he realized Tweek was crying._

_Tweek never cried. He didn't whimper, he didn't cling to Craig like this. Maybe he_ was _dying. Craig's stomach lurched. "Where are your parents?"_

_"Asleep. Couldn'tgetuptogetthem, ngh, ungh...!"_

_Craig took a deep breath. "I'm going to go wake them up, Tweek. We've got to call the hospital."_

_"No," Tweek grit out through his teeth. He balled both fists in the front of Craig's pajama top and pushed himself up to look Craig in the eye as much as he could while his body kept shaking. "No hospital."_

_"Tweek, you have to." Craig knew he must have looked scared, because when Tweek searched his face, his whole expression dropped into terror. "Please. It'll be okay. The doctor's going to help you."_

_"Craig, don't," Tweek pleaded, his hands jerking enough they almost ripped Craig's shirt. "Please, don't, notthegehhospital, please, Craig, don't, please—"_

"Craig?" Leo's voice brought him back to the present. "You okay?"

"Fine," Craig said, inspecting his camera as if that had been his priority all along. Leo blinked up at him.

He watched the rise and fall of Tweek's shoulders, the meditative breaths he took to calm himself down. Often, when they got older, that would be enough. Tweek rarely broke down when they were in high school or college. He knew how to relax his body, and when all else failed, he made himself a cup of coffee. Actual coffee, without the meth.

Craig would have thought accidentally ending up addicted thanks to his parents' dumbfuckery and having a severe withdrawal in junior high would have scared Tweek off the stuff, but he still liked the taste. No more than a cup a day, though. And never without Craig nearby.

The cup finished brewing, and Tweek took a long, slow drink from it. Scalding hot, probably, and before he could help himself, Craig said what he'd always said before, a thousand times before: "Give it a sec, Tweek, you'll burn off all your taste buds."

Tweek slammed the mug down on his table, and Leo and even Craig jumped at the sound. Swallowing, Tweek went back to his meditative breaths, louder this time, and harsher, not soothing at all. Too fast. Craig wanted to reach out and put his hand on Tweek's back, rub circles there, ease his pain.

When Tweek turned, there was none of his camera-ready kindness on his face. His eyes burned into Craig's.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked.

A full three seconds of silence transpired.

"What?" Craig asked, his brain racing to keep up with a single question.

"Why didn't you call me?" Tweek repeated, enunciating every word. He left the mug on the table and strode right up to Craig, their height difference becoming more evident as the space between them disappeared and Tweek had to tilt his head back to glare up. "After I moved?"

"I—" Craig swallowed heavily. Under the power of Tweek's kryptonite eyes, he searched for an answer. "I figured we were..."

"We were what?" Tweek asked.

Craig wanted to lower his eyes in shame but couldn't. Tweek's eyes wouldn't let him.

"We were supposed to try to make it work," Tweek said. "We could have done long-distance for a little while. Like adults. I know you were scared...or maybe hurt...about my going to California. But I wasn't choosing it over you. Craig, we were a team."

"I couldn't make you stay just for me," Craig said. "And I couldn't be who you needed in California."

The blaze of anger dulled to a candle's flame. "You were who I needed, just the way you were, no matter where we were."

"Yeah, you say that now," Craig said, ignoring the way his stomach flipped at hearing those words from Tweek's lips. "If you had waited around for me, look at everything you would've missed out on."

Tweek's eyebrows knit. "You couldn't pick up the phone and call me? You couldn’t come visit?"

He couldn't. He really couldn't, and it had been the trial of his life not to do it. Not to call Tweek and grovel for being too proud, beg him his forgiveness, up and move his whole life to California. Take all his bills and debt with him, be starving artists together in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Watch Tweek become famous. Swell up with pride to see the world recognizing his talent, appreciate him.

And then become his burden. Tweek would've paid off his student debts, footed the bill on a nicer apartment or maybe a house. Gotten Craig an in with whatever famous photographers he met in his travels around the world. And just like that, Craig would have a fabulous life and the unending anxiety that there was no way for him ever, ever to repay Tweek. And that anxiety would make Craig resent the one person in the world he could never resent.

"I couldn't," Craig agreed, suddenly aware that a few seconds had passed since Tweek had asked his question, and then extremely aware that Leo was still in the room, sitting in his chair staring up at them with watery eyes.

The answer wasn't what Tweek was expecting; renewed anger flashed across his face before his whole expression crumbled into hurt.

"You didn't even say it was over," Tweek said. "You just decided by yourself and never spoke to me again."

"I didn't want you to talk me out of it." If he'd given Tweek the opportunity to say so much as one word, his resolve would have shattered.

A faint tremor ran through Tweek's shoulders. Voice barely above a whisper, he asked, "Was I really that much trouble for you?"

 

_"Craig." The name came out in a little puff of air as Tweek kissed his cheek. "Craig." His other cheek, his nose, his chin, up and down his jaw. It was ticklish enough that Craig could have laughed if there weren't such an incredible weight in his chest._

_Nuzzling his nose into the crook of Craig's neck, Tweek exhaled a little chuckle. Planted a kiss against Craig's throat, right over his pulse, still humming. Tweek's arm draped over Craig's chest, fingers ghosting down his collarbone. Then they traced down the loops and arches of the intricate tattoo sleeve that marked from Craig's shoulder all the way down to his wrist. Symbols of perceived coolness and wasted money from turning eighteen that now kind of embarrassed Craig, but Tweek was crazy for them. Always touching, tracing, kissing. Could navigate their design in his sleep._

_"Craig," he whispered again, lips curving into a smile against the hollow of Craig's neck. "You're always so quiet. You don't have to be, you know." With a sigh, Tweek tilted his head up, green eyes glittering in the dark. Moonlight streaming through the window turned his hair—blond under clouds and red in the sun—an ethereal white. "That was..."_

_It_ was _. Craig knew exactly what he meant, knew exactly why there were no words. His chest constricted. This time tomorrow, Tweek would be in California, subletting a bedroom with three students for the summer while he shot his first big-screen part and auditioned for more._

_"Okay, you can stay here and work for the summer," Tweek had told him, "but then you're coming home to me."_

_Tweek hadn't even moved to California yet and it was already home to him. South Park, where they'd lived their whole lives aside from the dorms, where they'd grown up together and kissed under the stars and whispered their first_ I love yous _in the dark, was just "here."_

_The second little sigh huffed against his throat told Craig that Tweek was displeased at his continued silence. Usually they would curl up together after, Craig running his hands through Tweek's mess of impossibly soft hair, Tweek tracing his tattoos all the while tugging Craig's arm around his waist. Exist together for a minute, breathe in the universe, then whisper._

_"I love you," Tweek said now. Craig had once heard Kyle sniff in some English class that the word 'love' was overused to the point that it no longer meant anything. Craig had rolled his eyes at that. Kyle didn't think it meant anything because he'd never had someone tell him they loved him. He had no idea what it meant to hear someone pledge the most fragile and hidden pieces of themselves to him, and he had no idea what it meant to trust someone enough to offer those pieces of himself up in return._

_Tweek was leaving, and he was taking all those pieces of Craig with him. He didn't know it, and he didn't mean it. And Craig didn't regret giving him those pieces. Not one bit._

_Again, he'd become too lost in his own thoughts. Tweek lifted his head off of Craig's shoulder to stare down at him. His head blocked out the moonlight, his expression masked by shadows._

_"Say it back, jerk," he said. The playfulness in his voice didn't sound forced, but Craig could sense that under the outward teasing, Tweek was starting to worry about how quiet Craig was being the night before he left._

_"I love you," Craig said. He reached up to brush a stray tuft of hair from Tweek's eyes. "More than anything." His voice betrayed him, cracking on that last syllable. Craig was quick to cover it up, clearing his throat, but he'd already felt Tweek relax against him._

_"Oh, Craig. I'm going to miss you, too." Tweek tugged at Craig's shoulder, pulling him up onto his side, and snuggled into him now that he was in his usual position. "It's only a summer, and then we'll get a place of our own. My parents will help, I promise. And until then, we can call and text...it'll be okay."_

 

"You were never a burden," Craig said sharply. His hands raised of their own accord but froze before they could encircle Tweek's shoulders, a movement so familiar but lost to the past. Tweek's eyes flickered to Craig's hands before returning to his face. "Tweek, I promise."

Tweek's exhale took so much of his fire with it that Craig felt self-hatred spike in his heart. It had been a long time since he'd seen Tweek's shoulders hunch like that. Since Tweek had seemed so small. "So that was just your out? I moved away, and you were free to go?"

"What? No!" Craig's mind raced trying to figure out how Tweek could even possibly interpret it that way. Unable to be held back any longer, his hands dropped down onto Tweek's shoulders. He remembered their exact arc, the sturdyness hidden by Tweek's gentle appearance. "You think it didn't kill me to let you go? I mean, why do you think I worked so hard to get a job taking pictures of _celebrities_?"

Shit. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. All hurt flew from Tweek's expression to make way for shock, dropped jaw included.

"You..." Tweek managed, but Craig knew the whole thought forming in his mind. Even if Tweek were the best actor around, Craig could always read him, understand. Knew that Tweek knew that Craig had worked shitty part-time jobs and freelanced taking pictures at birthday parties and proms to get by. And that when the opportunity came to go off and take extraordinary photographs for publications about nature or travel or space, or to create his own gallery among other artists, or even pick up commercial jobs like wedding photography, Craig had clawed his way into gossip rags for one reason and one reason only.

To find him.

Craig let his hands drop from Tweek's shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have..." Cut Tweek off like that. Let Tweek get away. Think Tweek would even want him back after what he did. There were too many ways to finish the sentence, and Craig didn't want to say any of them aloud. Normally he could stay calm and cool, and he'd always imagined he'd be in control when they met again.

He'd always pictured reuniting with Tweek on a red carpet. Tweek would be walking down the aisle, smiling for the crowd, and then he'd recognize Craig's camera in the midst of the paparazzi, the same one that had winked at him thousands of times before, and he'd bolt across the carpet towards him. Granted, Craig's imagination never supposed Tweek would throw himself into Craig's arms. Usually Imagination-Tweek would punch him in the face, cuss him out, and then forgive him.

This was not what Craig had ever imagined. He hadn't prepared himself for the possibility that seeing Tweek again would hurt this much. He hadn't braced himself for the flood of memories, hadn't safeguarded himself against the self-hatred for how stupid he'd been when he was younger.

Fuck twenty-one-year-old Craig. Fuck him for letting Tweek get away, and fuck him for putting twenty-five-year-old Craig in this position right now. Fuck him to the moon and back for being so arrogant that he thought he could ever get over Tweek.

It was time to go. Craig didn't say another word, just grabbed his camera and bolted for the door.

"Craig!" The only thing that could possibly have stopped Craig in his tracks was Tweek's voice now, the veritable roar chasing him to the door. "Don't you _dare_ run away from me again!"

His hand was on the doorknob. All he had to do was twist his wrist just a bit, and that was that. Exit was within his grasp, literally.

He let his hand drop and turned around. Still seated, still wide-eyed, Leo was staring up at him with far too much understanding on his face. Tweek was a supernova, blinding in his fury.

“You _asshole_ ,” Tweek snapped. “You ghost me after eleven years together, you make decisions about _my_ life without _my_ input, and then four years later you show up and pull this shit? Take pictures like nothing’s changed, talk to me the way you used to. Drop this bomb that you screwed over your whole career for me, and then _leave_?” His fists were balled up so tightly they were shaking. “You don’t get to walk out on me!”

“I didn’t screw over my career,” Craig said, fingers tightening around his camera. Sparks were practically shooting from Tweek’s eyes, and he felt himself shrink under the glare. “The. The rest of the stuff, I…” He let his grip on his camera relax and sighed. “I’m sorry, Tweek. For everything.” Before Tweek had a chance to react, before another word could come out of his mouth, Craig turned to Leo. “I’m sorry about your interview,” he added. “I’ll leave so you can do what you came here to do.”

This time, he really did leave.

The elevator finally got with the program and arrived soon after Craig pushed the button. It also stopped at twelve other floors on its way to the lobby, though, so it still took him twenty minutes to emerge at the front desk of the hotel. Luckily he’d had the common sense to put away his camera so he didn’t look paparazzi. Most of the folks milling around looked like ordinary moneyed people who would usually be in such a nice hotel, but you couldn’t be too careful in this business.

In the time it took Craig to call and wait for a cab, Leo emerged from the elevators, too. Craig ducked too late; Leo’s sea glass eyes had already found him in the lounge by the door.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re still here,” he said, breathless from the not-so-subtle jog across the lobby. “Craig, I…I don’t even know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Craig said, immediately annoyed and then just as quickly repentant that he was taking it out on Leo. “I called a cab, so you can go.”

“No, I’ll drive you.” Leo sat next to him on the leather couch and patted his hand. “I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”

A comment like that should have, and usually did, set Craig off, but he didn’t sense any sort of condescending pity in Leo’s voice. He followed Leo out of the hotel and into the guest parking lot.

Once they were safely in his car, Leo turned to Craig. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should’a told you it was…well, who I was goin’ to interview.”

“It’s not your fault. If all you’re going to do is apologize for shit, then just drive.”

“No, no, no, there’s more than that.” Leo bit his lip. “After you left…well, it took him a little while to calm down.”

Craig closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the headrest. “He was angry? Yeah.”

Leo was quiet for longer than he should have been. “No, Craig, he was upset.”

In a flash, Craig’s eyes snapped open and he looked over at Leo. This trembling ball of sensitivity and genuine concern wrapped up in the wildly inappropriate designer jeans and trendy hair of celebrity journalism. “What do you mean, he was upset?”

Again, Leo paused for too long. Finally he reached over and patted Craig’s hand again, then left his hand on top of Craig’s. “We didn’t go back to the interview. He and I just talked for a bit, until he felt better.”

Swallowing, Craig asked, “What do you mean, ‘felt better’? Did he—” Shake? Pull his hair? Stumble over his words, bite his lip and stifle little yelps? Fuck, Craig shouldn’t have left him again. And—“Was he okay when you came down?”

“He was okay,” Leo said. His tone was a little too dubious, but Craig figured Leo wouldn’t have left if Tweek were having an anxiety attack. But Tweek was still unhappy when Leo left him alone up there.

Craig had left them alone. Sitting upright, Craig shot his hand out to grab the front of Leo’s shirt and caught his seatbelt instead. It whirred shrilly when he jerked at it; or maybe that was Leo. “Don’t you dare write about this,” he snarled. “Not one word. Tweek’s never done anything wrong in his life, don’t even think about bringing the media circus to his door.”

Leo’s hands flew up in front of himself protectively. “Of course not! I wouldn’t do that.” His lower lip quivered, and Craig immediately felt stupid. He eased up on the seatbelt gently so it didn’t snap back and hit Leo. “Craig…Craig, what happened between you two?”

Slowly, tentatively, Craig eased back into his seat. “A lot of it, I don’t want to say to you.”

“That’s fair,” Leo said without hesitation. “Some things are easier to say to a stranger. Lots’a things aren’t.”

Out the windshield, Craig could see a bird swooping from window to window at the other end of the hotel. It was like it was looking for a room and couldn’t find it. “Tweek had no idea that I was thinking about splitting up.” That much Leo clearly already knew. It was awful to say it out loud. “He would have talked me out of it if I brought it up to him.”

“Because you didn’t really want to split,” Leo supplied. Craig exhaled through his nose.

“If I’d come with him, I would’ve been a burden on him. Someone to take care of.”

“Did you wanna be the one to take care of him?” Leo guessed.

“Tweek doesn’t need to be taken care of,” Craig said. A moment later, he thought to add that he didn’t, either, but he wasn’t the half of their former relationship who had his finances and living situation in perfect order. “We…did for each other.”

He’d never thought of it as _taking care of_ Tweek. Holding him close when his tremors kicked in, or soothing him with soft words when anxiety took him. Tweek wasn’t fragile, wasn’t vulnerable, no matter what anybody else thought. And he never wanted Craig’s pity, never had it.

But maybe it _was_ like being taken care of, what Tweek gave him. The way Craig’s whole body relaxed when he came into their dorm, not just from coming out of Denver’s snow and into the warmth of indoors, but because of the aroma of coffee wafting over him. The complete absence of fear, no need to worry about coolness or appearances when he spoke or did anything, how Tweek treated his input with value. Or how much nicer the world seemed with Tweek snuggled up against him snoring, moonlight easing through their window. Being curled up with Tweek was the only time in his life Craig felt like he was home.

Leo’s eyes had gone very round, and Craig realized with horror that the constricting feeling crawling up from his chest to his throat was emotion threatening to spill out. He turned his head to look out the passenger-side window at the car parked beside them. Leo hadn’t started the car. Why was that?

“He called,” Craig said finally. He kept his voice soft, had always found it easier to control when he didn’t shout. “And called. And texted, e-mailed. Came back to South Park to talk to me in person. I made myself scarce.”

He’d driven to North Park and slept in his father’s crappy old truck to avoid any run-ins. Even now he remembered rolling back into town on fumes because he didn’t have enough money to fill the gas tank before he left. That bleary Monday morning, grey skies over Hell’s Pass Hospital, snow blowing sideways, light enough not to pile up, wet enough to slick the roads. And Stan fucking Marsh on his doorstep: “Tweek was looking for you. He was really upset, dude. Where the hell were you?”

“If you wanted to stay together, an’ he wanted to stay together, why break up?” Leo asked gently. “Especially if you’ve spent the past four years…well…”

Looking for him. Of course he did. “I stuck to the plan,” Craig said, forgetting if he’d told Leo that there was a plan or if he’d only just thought about it himself. “I moved home. I worked. I moved out.” Crappy job after crappy job, taking his obscenely expensive, brand-name camera to birthday parties and bar mitzvahs for extra cash. Taking long walks on the weekends with a fully-charged battery to build his own portfolio. Sending applications. And sending, and sending.

Warmth on Craig’s hand reminded him that Leo had put his hand on top of it; he was trying to hold it now. “Were you tryin’ to prove you were good enough?”

“No, I wasn’t.” Craig snatched his hand away. That wasn’t it at all. He had never once doubted his worth, only recognized that he had to follow steps and play by rules. Work and move up. Get there on his own, in his own time.

Tweek had loved him once, had said it and laughed it and whispered it into his ear. Had pressed it into his lips with his own millions of times, had shown it in the slightest movements, the softest breaths. In the fearless trust his fearful heart allowed. Leo must have been like Kyle Broflovski, no idea what it really meant to love someone like that. No idea how whole that kind of love made life. Thinking about Leo not knowing, though, was actually a little sad.

Cracking his neck, Craig faced forward again, his emotions safely in check. “Let’s go back to our hotel.”

“Craig…” There wasn’t a warning, exactly, in Leo’s voice, but there was reluctance. “Craig, maybe…”

“Let’s go back,” Craig said again.

“But you still love each other.”

“Yeah, and I ruined it. Look, just because feelings are still there doesn’t mean they’re not still broken, okay?” This wasn’t the closure Craig had always thought he’d get. This wasn’t closure at all. Twice now he’d walked away with pieces of Tweek that he’d taken, pieces Tweek didn’t want to give up. “Just drive.”

Leo started the car, but he didn’t shift out of park right away. “Really?” he asked. The sudden hardness in his voice wrenched Craig’s attention to Leo’s armor-piercing stare. “You’re gonna leave him up there alone? Somebody who loves you? Who’s hurtin’ ‘cause he loves you?”

The sudden backbone startled Craig, but he was done talking. Was done sharing anything more about Tweek. He leaned forward and snapped on the radio to fill the silence.

“ _You still look like a movie. You still sound like a song._ ”

That damn Adele song again. What the hell, why was it everywhere? Craig scowled at the radio knobs and dials. Leo still hadn’t shifted out of park.

“ _It’s hard to admit that everything just takes me back to when you where there…to when you were there. And a part of me keeps holding on, just in case it hasn’t gone. I guess I still care. Do you still care?_ ”

Leo reached up to his key in the ignition and clicked it so that the engine died but the radio stayed on. While Adele came back again to that line, that stupid— _“Let me photograph you in this light, in case this is the last time”_ —Craig inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.

The next thing he knew, Craig was pushing the elevator button.

It opened immediately. Nobody else got on, and there wasn’t a single stop up to the nineteenth floor. Craig practically expected his ears to pop with how quickly the doors were opening again. His feet carried him out of the elevator, down the hallway, and to Tweek’s door without a single thought; in a blink, it seemed, he was knocking on solid, expensive wood, the antique gold _1906_ winking at him under the muted hallway lights.

The door swung inward, and there he was. Craig didn’t even get a chance to open his mouth.

“You are a _jackass_!” Tweek’s wild mane of strawberry-gold hair was practically bristling.

“…Yeah,” Craig agreed.

“And an idiot!”

“Yeah.”

“ _Selfish_ —”

“Yep.”

“Coward!”

“You’re right.”

“And you love me,” Tweek finished. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice, not so much as a tremor of unsureness.

“Yeah,” Craig said.

Tweek glared at him, his hand still on the edge of the door, ready to slam it at any time. Craig had forgotten how beautiful he was when he was angry. Craig hadn’t forgotten a damn thing.

“Say it, you jerk,” Tweek said. Still in control, but softer now.

“I love you,” Craig said. “More than anything.”

He had just enough time to take one breath when Tweek’s hand abandoned the door and he stormed right up to the doorframe where Craig was standing.

“You’re damn right you do,” Tweek said, one hand tangled in Craig’s hair to pull him down, crashing their lips together.

By the time Craig’s brain caught up with him, his arms had already wrapped around Tweek, and his lips didn’t need to be told twice to return the kiss. In a second, Tweek’s fiery supernova burned out into something so gentle and familiar, Craig could feel his chest constricting again.

When they parted, neither pulled too far away. “I love you back,” Tweek said softly. Craig buried his nose in his soft hair, still smelling of coffee like it always did, loose curls tickling his cheeks.

“I’ve loved you my whole life,” he mumbled.

 

_“Dude, you don’t look so good,” Token said, watching with distaste as Craig threw back another shot. “I think you better stop. You’re going to give yourself alcohol poisoning.”_

_“Good,” Craig said. Or, at least, he thought he said it. Everything was blurred and slurring, and every so often spinning. “I deserve it.”_

_“Craig T-Tuh-Tucker doesn’t throw himself pity p-puh-pahh…pahh…parties.” Somewhere in the sideways lights and sounds circling him, Craig was aware of the shot glass being taken away from him and Jimmy flagging Uncle Skeeter not to come over again. “You’re shhhhhhitfaced.”_

_Bracing his hands against the edge of the bar, Craig half-fell off his stool and staggered to his feet, the heels of his boots straggling against the floor as if he were standing on ice in his sneakers. Stark’s Pond, frozen beneath his feet, his stomach lurching up into his throat. In fact, all of Craig must have lurched, because the next thing he knew, Token’s unwavering arms were looped under his armpits and steering him to the bathroom. Jimmy’s crutches clacked in after them, squeaking on the cracking tiles of the bathroom floor._

_They both stood in the open doorway of the stall, standing guard while the alcohol, the smell of the bathroom, and Stan fucking Marsh’s voice in his mind—“_ Tweek was looking for you. He was really upset, dude. Where the hell were you?” _—took their toll on him. At some point, he was aware of Token’s hand rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades._

_“Keys,” Token said. Token was always afraid to park his car at Uncle Skeeter’s because of all the drunken, staggering idiots who stumbled into or keyed up cars on their way out, so Craig would take his father’s crappy old truck. They’d toss Jimmy’s crutches in the bed. Not driving was also a great way for Token not to have to worry about getting home from the bar. Craig never drank. Craig was the perfect designated driver._

_Except for tonight. Tonight Token helped him out the door in a fireman carry. Craig vaguely remembered asking if he’d gotten any on Token._

_“Nope, all in the toilet.” That, Craig later found out, was a lie. But Token was like that. He gave more of a shit about Craig being okay than about his shoes. And he’d still be like that even if his family didn’t have more money than God._

_“Why did I do that?” Craig groaned into the wine-colored corduroy of Token’s jacket._

_“We all have our nights,” Token said, pausing. He lowered himself into a kneeling position in slow-motion, tipping Craig back onto his feet, before he got the door open. “Give Jimmy your phone. He’ll text your mom that you’re staying with me tonight. You’re both staying with me. You’ll sleep it off.” Neither of them would sleep that night; they’d never say so explicitly, but Craig knew they’d both stayed up watching him, scared. Probably more scared when he woke up and lurched straight into the bathroom, somehow still feeling the effects. And beyond scared shitless when Token brought in a pot of coffee and Craig buried his face in his hands._

_“Not the drunk. Drink. Ing? Dr…drinking.” Craig swayed into Token’s shoulder while Token eased him around the open door of the truck and tried to help him up and in. “Why’d I let Tweek go?”_

_Token went very still then. Even drunk off his ass, Craig knew how still he’d gone._

_“I love Tweek,” Craig continued, all of his words sloshing together, everything coming out in an unintelligible groan. “I love. That’s why. You love something you let it go. Let him go. That’s the thing. You, but I let him…I love Tweek.”_

_“We know, buddy,” Token said. Craig felt himself tipping backwards, and then Jimmy’s hand was on his back to stop him from falling across the seat. He was already sitting on the passenger’s side, and he and Token carefully propped Craig up in the middle._

_“I need Tweek,” Craig said. “I need to…need to go to Cafilor…Caf…Cali-phone…L.A.”_

_“Let’s focus on getting you back to my place, first,” Token said, revving up the engine._

_“I love Tweek,” Craig told them the whole ride home, his voice cracking and slurring, his chest tight. “I love Tweek. I love Tweek. I love Tweek…”_

 

With the door shut behind them and a quick text to Leo not to wait for him, Craig realized with a jolt that this was the first time he’d been alone with Tweek in four years. Kissing was good. Establishing that they still loved each other was good. But talking was what they needed to do now.

The chair where Leo had been sitting was still set up. Tweek reached out and put a hand on the back of it, so Craig sat on the edge of the bed. A second later, though, Tweek was dragging the chair out of the way. He sat down next to Craig, not as close as he used to sit, but pretty close.

“Why did you come back?” Tweek asked, voice steady. Craig wanted to hold his hand but wasn’t sure if that was okay. “I figured you’d said your piece and left.”

“I wasn’t expecting to come back,” Craig admitted. “But I…there’s this song on the radio that…” He couldn’t bring himself to say _I found a song that puts into words how I feel about you._ Something in Tweek’s light eyes said he heard it anyway. “That and Leo Stotch.”

“You had no idea he was coming to see me,” Tweek guessed lightly. Craig agreed. “And he had no idea that we were…us.”

“Nope.”

A hint of a smile quirked at the corner of Tweek’s mouth. “He bullied you into coming with him in the first place, didn’t he? Mr. Antisocial.”

“He didn’t _bully_ me.” Leo was too tiny and gentle to bully. Craig was about to add that he couldn’t be bullied, _period,_ when Tweek leaned closer, his lips ghosting against Craig’s jaw. It was every bit as effective at shutting Craig up as it had been four years ago.

“Why didn’t you come to California?” Tweek asked, breath tickling Craig’s neck. Craig started at how easily he’d slipped that harsh question between soft kisses.

“I wanted to have my shit together first.”

Tweek _laughed_ , the bastard, a twinkling sound under Craig’s earlobe. “Do you have to care so much what other people think?”

“I care what you think.”

Sobering, Tweek leaned back, his eyes searching Craig’s face. Craig tried not to focus on his pensive look, tried to focus on counting Tweek’s freckles. Like he didn’t remember every last one. Like he couldn’t count twenty-seven stars over the bridge of Tweek’s nose with his eyes closed.

“And what about back then?” Tweek asked, dangerously quiet. “Did you care that I thought you didn’t want me anymore, that maybe you never wanted me and just stayed with me because I was there?”

The urge to be sick coursed in the pit of Craig’s stomach.

“I thought you hated me. And I was scared about being alone in Los Angeles with nothing. No call, no text, you wouldn’t even talk to me when I came back to town to see you. Did you care about how worthless you made me feel?”

Shit. Fuck. _Fuck_. The scene painted itself all too clearly in Craig’s mind: Tweek back then, curled up in his blankets, shaking, waiting for comforting arms and a soothing voice that weren’t coming. That nightmare had been playing on the backs of Craig’s eyelids for years.

“I cared,” he said, bringing his hands up to hold Tweek’s face. Tweek’s solemn eyes remained steadily trained on him. “I cared every day. I thought about calling you every day, and about moving to California.”

“Why didn’t you?” His voice was harder now. Reluctantly, Craig lowered his hands.

“…At first I was scared.” He’d known as soon as Stan told him Tweek was upset that he’d screwed up. Hell, he’d known before that, but it was at that moment that everything he could have, should have done pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. The conversations they should have had, the things he would’ve done differently. “I thought letting you go was doing right by you, and then I…”

“Didn’t want to admit you were wrong,” Tweek finished coldly. “Stubborn, proud _idiot_. You didn’t want to fight, or have that awkward conversation where you admitted to my face that you were deciding the terms of our relationship without consulting me.”

“I’m sorry.” The words spilled out, and Craig repeated them four times. How had he ever thought this was a good idea? How fucking insecure had twenty-one-year-old Craig been about an eleven-year relationship that this was the answer he came up with to the question _How does one react to one’s boyfriend’s getting an amazing career opportunity?_

“I know.” Tweek blew air out the side of his mouth. “I know you are. And I know you care.” He shook his head. “I just wish you weren’t such an asshole all the time.”

Craig was starting to wonder if Tweek had said he loved him, had kissed him like that, just to trick him in here to get the punishment he deserved for what he did.

“Why…” Tweek’s eyes were on him in an instant. Craig swallowed. “Why didn’t you ever…see anyone else?”

“Who said I didn’t?” Tweek asked, and Craig’s chest constricted. In spite of the coolness Tweek was channeling now, guilt flashed across his face, easing his expression into something kinder. “Oh, Craig, I didn’t,” he said, more gently now. Craig wondered what his face had looked like to inspire those softer words. “There wasn’t anybody else.”

“There wasn’t anybody else for me, either,” Craig said. It seemed like an important thing to say. Or maybe a dumb thing to say, considering he was the one who ended it and had no business moving on with someone else.

Tweek snorted. “I know that.” He sighed and kicked off of the floor, scooting himself farther back onto the bed so that his legs were stretched in front of him on the mattress. Craig watched as Tweek put a pillow up against the headboard and leaned back onto it. After a second, he pulled off his sneakers and shifted back himself so that he was eye-to-eye with Tweek.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Craig asked, no intensity behind his words. No intensity left. Maybe none to start with.

Tweek shifted onto his side and slipped a hand under his head, his chin resting on his forearm near his elbow. The pose was painfully familiar, the same way he’d lie next to Craig after—when they talked at night. The way he’d curl himself towards Craig while they whispered to one another.

“You might not have answered any of my calls,” he started coolly, “but other people did. Token and Jimmy begged me not to give up on you.”

“ _What_?” This was the first Craig was hearing of Token or Jimmy having any contact with Tweek after the split, not that it should have surprised him. Just because Tweek moved didn’t mean Craig automatically got their friends.

“Token told me you went out to a bar and drank yourself stupid.” Regardless of who was drinking it, Tweek didn’t like alcohol then, and he clearly didn’t like it now. His voice softened when he continued. “And that you spent the whole ride home and most of your drunken stupor crying about what you did.”

“I didn’t cry.” Or maybe he did. He didn’t really remember. He was going to have to have a word with Token about being a cooler friend who didn’t report private moments, though. Depending on how this conversation went.

“Every time I talked to them, they were telling me how stupid you were being and how you didn’t mean it. For maybe a year. Then I think they figured we weren’t getting back together, and we started talking about other things.”

Craig turned onto his side, too, facing Tweek. “I didn’t know you guys were still in touch.”

Tweek gave him a crooked little smile. “Jimmy said you don’t talk about me a lot because it makes you too sad.”

Jesus, could Token and Jimmy have made him sound any wimpier? What, did Tweek think he’d spent the last four years moping and hating himself, on a perpetual downward spiral? Well. He was only partly right.

“Stan called me, too,” Tweek said. “After I came looking for you. He told me we were _Tweek and Craig_ , and the whole town was rooting for us.” He laughed, and the derision in the sound went right to Craig’s heart. Stan was a tool. “He’s not so bad,” Tweek said, as if he’d read Craig’s mind. “He said you were even meaner without your better half around.”

“Stan’s still single, you know. Shocking, considering how he knows everything about relationships.”

Tweek laughed again, a whistling through his nose. He seemed closer. Maybe they’d both inched closer, breath by breath.

“I wasn’t going to wait for you,” Tweek said softly. Craig took a deep breath. “You broke my heart, Craig.”

Unable to control himself any longer, Craig reached out and ran his fingers through Tweek’s hair, the long, strawberry-gold waves he’d missed. Phantom locks his fingers had reached for a thousand times or more when he was sleeping alone.

“Wait for me?” Craig repeated.

“Like they all told me to. Everybody from South Park that I talked to, they couldn’t believe that we weren’t us forever. Token and Jimmy were rallying for you, of course, and Stan was…I don’t know, on the side of hopeless romance. A few other people I fell out of touch with.” There was still a tiny smile on his lips, though. “I guess I hated you less after talking to them.”

Tweek had hated him. It was a sucker punch to every vulnerable place in his body.

“You know who called me?” Tweek inched closer. This time, Craig saw it for sure. “Kyle Broflovski.”

“What did he want?” Craig muttered. This conversation was a roller coaster he hadn’t prepared himself for. But it was still nothing compared to what he put Tweek through.

“Mm, about a year after I moved to California, I got a text from him checking to see if that was still my number. Then he called me. He said he saw you at the grocery store, in the aisle with coffee.” Inched closer. “That you were looking at all the different brands, but kind of like you weren’t really seeing them.” Closer. “And that finally you shoved them all back on the shelves, left a full cart, and walked out.”

Craig had forgotten all about that, but as Tweek said it now, the memory returned vividly. How he hadn’t been able to help himself from looking at all the brands Tweek liked, the blends he used to buy. Remembering how they smelled brewing in the kitchenette when they lived together, or how the aroma clung to every strand of Tweek’s hair. How Craig used to breathe it in. And how that had been too much. He hadn’t realized Kyle was even there.

“Kyle said you still loved me.” And now they were curled up together the way they used to, dangerous, so dangerous when talking about love and with Tweek looking up at him like that. “And I figured, if some guy I wasn’t even really friends with thought it was important enough to call me out of the blue and tell me that, I should probably listen.” He blinked in that doe-eyed, slow-motion way that had always done Craig in. “So I waited.”

“You shouldn’t have had to wait,” Craig said. Every word out of his mouth today was an apology. Making up for lost time, he supposed. “This is all my fault.”

“Yeah, it is,” Tweek agreed, and a tiny part of Craig wanted to be annoyed at his quick response. Shaking himself, he reminded himself that he didn’t want to screw this up again. Tweek was cozied up beside him, nuzzling his neck, forgiving him but taking his time with it. _Suck it up, Tucker_ , Craig thought. Anything that could even possibly be called Tweek’s fault stemmed from Craig’s mistake anyway. There. His holding his tongue paid off, too, because Tweek said, “But now we can talk about it and work through it.”

Work through it. Get back together. Craig would take the blame for everything gladly. They were getting back together. Tweek still loved him. They were getting back together.

He sat up so quickly he startled Tweek. “Craig? What is it?”

“My…” Craig reached over the foot of the bed where he’d left his camera bag and pulled it back up.

When he turned around again, Tweek was sitting up, too. Sunlight streaming through the window lit his hair fiery red. Light green eyes wide and curious. That trail of stars over the bridge of his nose. As soon as Tweek’s eyes fell on the camera, they crinkled with laughter.

“Let me take your picture,” Craig said.

“I look awful.” Maybe he did. Tiredness lined his face. His hair was a mess, the bobby pins having given up in their task, or perhaps falling out altogether, long ago. His shirt was rumpled from lying down.

“No, you don’t.” Craig pulled himself closer, every part of himself relaxing when Tweek let him kiss him. They were going to work it out. They were getting back together. “You look like a movie.”

Tweek looked up, the motion somewhere between a glance and an eye-roll. “Are you quoting Adele at me?”

“Maybe.”

But then they were kissing again, and somewhere along the line, Craig’s camera was lost in the pillows, Craig’s hands having found they preferred holding Tweek instead. And somewhere along the line, the sun that turned Tweek’s gold hair red set, giving way to a navy sky and only a smattering of stars visible against the lights of Los Angeles. And somewhere along the line, with Tweek’s lips whispering in his ear, and Tweek’s fingertips tracing the tattoos winding up his arm, and their fingers shyly lacing together, everything in the world was exactly perfect.

Or getting there, at least.


End file.
